


Alter Ego

by cryogenia



Series: Tumblr Short-Shorts [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, also bucky barnes is a menace, briefly sexual content, the art of hiding in plain sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryogenia/pseuds/cryogenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The history books claim that his neighbors thought ‘the Rogers kid’ was a bad influence. He suspects they didn’t realize there’s a bit of the devil in him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alter Ego

**Author's Note:**

> A spot of fluff for your Sunday! Because why not.

The party row is audible long before they can see it through the throngs of people, an excited hum building every way at once. The closest club is throbbing like a migraine through the sidewalk, pulsing bass mixed with a synth that sings right through the teeth. Bucky breathes in deep, filtering through the scents of street tacos and body wash, letting the street wash over him at once. Nights like this are what he was made for, long before they trained him to pick his way through a crowd. He may not know the steps anymore, and he may not be able to drink, but his body remembers the rush of music. How the nighttime settles in your bones.

He weaves around an overfed skeleton and skirts around a large group of men clad entirely in wrapping paper. Halloween still has black cats but now they’re shirtless men prowling around in eyeliner and fuzzy ears and very little else. Glinda and the Wicked Witch are giggling, holding hands. Bucky gives them the thumbs-up and they giggle harder, either embarrassed or suspicious. He wheels around them quickly, in case they draw attention.

A tight-knit four person formation is proceeding counter to the flow of traffic, hugging to the outside edge. He snaps to them as easy as breathing, the most conspicuous part of the crowd. He can’t not.  _That_  part they did grind into him, over and over until it’s good as reflex.

“Oh my god,” the tallest one is saying. They are covered head to toe in bizarre foam spikes and a t-shirt that reads ‘Horny Devil’. “Confidential to baby gays: please do not all be Cap and Bucky again this year.”

A chorus of affirmative grumbling ensues from a Roman gladiator, a smokey-eyed firefighter, and a short person inexplicably wearing a table around their shoulders.

“It’s so overdone,” the gladiator complains. “And I’m sorry, but unless you are really cut, you cannot pull it off.”

And now he can’t resist for entirely different reasons. The history books claim that his neighbors thought ‘the Rogers kid’ was a bad influence growing up. He suspects they didn’t realize there’s a bit of the devil in him too.

Bucky approaches from their four ‘o clock, intentional but allowing them the opportunity to notice his presence. The aim is to surprise, not ambush. They still don’t pick him up until he’s basically on top of them, and by then, it’s already too late. He draws in his abs, cocks one hip to the side, and moves in for the strike.

“How about me?” he drawls. “Can I pull it off?”

He feels all four pairs of eyes drop directly to his lower half. His shorts, which don’t remotely fit. They’re a strip-mall special, tight over the crotch and obscene around his thighs. Boy shorts, as designed by someone who never intended to evoke innocence: they ride up high on the sides, showing off a nice peek of his ass cheeks.

The spiky one (perhaps their leader?) seems to recover first.

“No, honey, you can stay,” they purr.

“You can pull it off any time you want,” the table adds.

The other two seem unsure how to react. The gladiator’s bare chest has flushed all the way down to their navel, probably remembering their own shitty comment. Bucky doesn’t feel the least bit sorry for them.

“Nice arm, by the way,” the firefighter manages finally. Their deep voice is somewhere between drowning and strangled.

“Thanks!” Bucky says. “I made it myself.”

Bucky carefully extends his left arm to the side, showing off the monstrosity in all its glory. The aluminum foil he’s pasted over the plates is a crinkled mess already. His star is a lopsided blue and red blob, clearly drawn by someone struggling with a mirror. Steve had offered to do it for him, but then it would have looked good.

“Grilling foil,” Bucky explains, rotating his elbow so they can see more crumpled aluminum. He taps the black mask strapped over his eyes. “And this was a sleep mask that I cut holes in.”

He doesn’t bother mentioning the shirt. It’s clearly a Halloween store knock off, inaccurate even compared to the bullshit comic books. Also cheap and thin as hell. Even if the arm didn’t overheat, he would have had to rip the left sleeve off. The shoulder seams started popping the second he put it on; it’s a miracle the right is still attached.

The costume snobs don’t seem to care, though. They’re still busy staring at his nipples through the fabric.

“Nice mix of comics canon and real life,” the firefighter says. “I don’t think I’ve seen that done before.”

This one’s all right at least. Bucky turns on his best million-dollar smile. Watches the firefighter edge close to self-combustion. They’re kind of cute in an awkward way.

“You a fan?” he asks.

“Can you be gay and  _not_  be a fan?” the ‘horny devil’ asks. “Oh my god, have you seen those abs?”

So at least one of them identifies gay. Though Bucky’s not sure why the devil speaks with such a dramatic, lilting cadence. There’s a whole diversity training module where they teach you specifically that gay people don’t talk like that. Except apparently, sometimes they do. The future is fucking weird.

“Which one?” he asks instead.

“Both?” The devil stares at him like he’s grown a second head.

The gladiator is nodding too. Apparently they feel comfortable enough to Make a Contribution.

“I'm more of a Cap man, personally. Did you see he was on the cover of  _Men’s Health_?”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Bucky says, innocently enough. He might have a copy or three of that issue.

He might have had to put the magazine in plastic protectors to keep himself from ruining it.

“He is built like a Mack Truck,” the gladiator sighs. “Those shoulders.”

“Those pecs,” the firefighter chimes in. “They say he benches a thousand pounds.”

“1175, I heard,” Bucky says. Because a certain someone is being a little bitch about going for 1200. “And he used to straight press two girls on top of his Harley.”

“God bless America,” the table chimes in.

Now this angle of conversation Bucky can get behind. He wonders if it makes him a pervert, the way it draws heat into his belly. Hearing strangers talk about Steve - positively, none of that Fox News bullshit - is doing uncomfortable things to his already uncomfortable shorts.

And the devil seems to be noticing, judging by the way they’re licking their lips.

“Hey, you going to the Pony?” they ask. Clearly trying for nonchalant, and failing spectacularly.

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.” The Pink Pony is back to the south, a mid-sized bar with middle of the road reviews. It’s not at the top of his research results.

“I don’t know. Kind of a long line.”

Steve’s deep voice cuts in through the background roar, right at his six and when the fuck did Steve learn how to sneak up on him?  It is definitely fucked up how much that makes him shiver. All four of the costume crusaders swivel on a dime and Bucky resists the urge to groan as he takes in the naked want on their faces.

He turns to appreciate Steve’s approach with them, every inch of his body tingling. Steve walks with such beautiful, confident purpose, “don’t mind me” and “I’m gonna fuck you up” all rolled into one person. And the  _spandex_. The cheapo body suit fully covers him, and it still would have been less obscene if he’d gone for the version with the crop top. The Halloween special design of his costume is a hundred percent stretch and it’s still barely enough to keep him all contained. He can see every curve to Steve’s iliac furrow.

That, and it’s apparent he doesn’t have underwear lines.

“ _God bless America_ ,” the table says reverently. They look ready to lay down and become a bed.

“Hey, you,” Steve says. He sidles up to hook his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, like he’s trying to be chill and sweet and not at all insecure. Bucky sighs and reaches behind to pull Steve’s arms forward around his waist.

“Hey, yourself,” he hums, rocking back and forth with his Steve-coat. Steve goes boneless and melts against his back.

“Lost you back there,” Steve complains.

“Well, stop sucking.” Bucky turns his head to nuzzle Steve’s cheek. “I was just talking to some people.”

He inclines his head toward the other four, who are now staring at both of them in a hilarious mixture of awe and disappointment.

“That is the  _cutest_ couples’ costume,” the horny devil gushes. Bucky does his damndest not to bust up laughing.

“Thanks!” Steve says. He sounds so incredibly proud. “It was my idea. What are you?”

The devil strokes one of their foam ‘horns’ in an incredibly suggestive fashion. “I’m a horny devil.”

“Spartacus,” the gladiator says.

“Fireman.”

The table grins and spins three-sixty, showing off all four corners of their costume.

“I’m a one night stand,” they say, finally putting that goddamn mystery to rest.

Steve tosses his head back and laughs like he does these days: loud and boisterous, like that is the best thing he’s ever heard. Bucky leans back against his chest and lets the motion carry him.

“Well, good luck with that,” Steve says. He presses a soft kiss to the side of Bucky’s neck. “I think Buck and I are gonna keep moving.”

Which - for fuck’s sake, Steve. An effective disguise does not mean “bulletproof”. The firefighter gives them a weird look and for a moment, Bucky thinks they’re going to be outed, but then they just shake their head and smile.   

“That was so in character,” the firefighter says. “You guys are great.”

“Nah,” Steve says. Bucky can hear the mischief in his voice. “Did you see them at Pride this year?  They’re so gone for each other.”

Bucky reaches back and pinches him. With the left hand, not the right. Not even Steve can keep from wincing.

“You saying we’re not sweet together?”

“Says the guy who pinched me.”

They scuffle briefly, Bucky’s elbows versus Steve’s obnoxiously strong hands. Both of them wind up laughing hysterically at both the poetic justice and the sheer ridiculousness of trying to grapple with spandex.

“Well, it was nice meeting you!” the devil cuts in. “Hope you have a good night!”

“You too!” Bucky and Steve call back, still giggling. He can still hear the group as they wander away. Not surprisingly, the first thing out of the devil’s mouth is a long complaint about how “I should have known.”

“Yeah, all the best guys are taken,” Steve muses, stroking Bucky’s sides. “What were you doing over here, anyway?”

Even through the rough catch of the cheap fabric, he can feel how warm Steve’s fingers are. How strong. Bucky’s eyelids flutter shut.

“Showing off my costume.”

Steve pulls him into an embrace. Slides his hands down to cup over Bucky’s bared cheeks.

“You know, I have it on good authority that the real Bucky Barnes hates those stupid comic shorts.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky breathes. “Well, I have it on good authority the real Cap wants to fuck me in them.”

No one else is around them now, out here on the far edge of the sidewalk. Steve presses his mouth to Bucky’s neck, leans in for the bite.

“Maybe we should go home and find out,” Steve mouths against his reddened skin.

And it’s tempting. Oh so fucking tempting. But the music is still pulsing somewhere in his blood, and the crowds just keep on moving despite their little display. Halloween comes but once a year, and he is going to take advantage of every chance they get to be themselves in this new world.  Proud, anonymous, and unafraid.

Bucky pushes Steve off him.

“Nah,” he says. “I ain’t a cheap date. Dancing first, Rogers. Buy me a drink. Then you can see what’s under the mask.”

Steve grins. “I dunno, I was thinking we could leave the mask on for protection.”

“From what?”

“Your face.”

They scuffle briefly again, but when they fall back into the crowd, they do so hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Hide in plain sight with me on Tumblr at [buckyballbearing](http://buckyballbearing.tumblr.com).


End file.
